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“I calculate our flight time to be an hour and twenty minutes,” George said after settling in for the difficult flight.
“Juan?” It was Max over the radio.
“Go ahead.”
“Cassedine’s sending another SOS.”
“Okay, go ahead and answer it just like we talked about.”
“You got it.” Max left the channel open so Cabrillo could hear the conversation. “Gulf of Sidra, this is the MV Oregon, Captain Max Hanley. I have heard your distress call and am making all possible speed to your location but we’re still two hours away.”
“Oregon, thank God!”
“Captain Cassedine, please advise on your situation.”
“There’s a split in the hull amidships port side and we’re taking on water. My pumps are going at full capacity and we don’t appear to be sinking, but if the tear gets any worse we will have to abandon ship.”
“Has the hole gotten any bigger since it first occurred?”
“Negative. A rogue wave running across the wind hit us and tore the plating. It has been stable since.”
“If you turn due east we can reach you quicker.” This wasn’t true but if the Gulf of Sidra turned as she spewed her poison it would distort the hurricane’s eye somewhat. Basically it was a test to see who had control on the ship, its master or Daniel Singer.
Static filled the airwaves for almost a minute. When Cassedine came back there was a new current of fear in his voice. “Ah, that isn’t possible, Oregon. My engineer reports damage to our steering gear.”
“Most likely a gun to his head,” Juan said to Max.
They had considered this scenario, so Max went on as if it wasn’t a big deal. “Understood damage to your steering. In that case, Captain, we can’t risk a collision in these conditions. When we are ten miles from you I will request that you man your lifeboats.”
“What, so you can put a line on my ship afterward and claim her for salvage?”
Juan chuckled. “This guy’s facing death and he’s worried we’ll steal his vessel.”
“Captain, the Oregon is a thousand-ton commercial fishing boat,” Max lied smoothly. “We couldn’t tow a tanker on a millpond let alone in the teeth of a hurricane. I am just unwilling to risk a runaway derelict ramming us in the middle of this storm.”
“I, ah, I understand,” Cassedine finally said.
“How many souls aboard?”
“Three officers, twelve crew, and one supernumerary. A total of sixteen.”
The extra man would be Singer, Juan thought, realizing that was a small number even by tanker standards, which were so automated nowadays that they typically carried just a skeleton crew, but he supposed it was enough for what Singer intended.
“Roger that,” Max replied. “Sixteen people. I will call you when we are in range. Oregon out.”
“Affirmative, Captain Hanley. I will radio immediately if our situation changes. Gulf of Sidra out.”
“Don’t get too used to that Captain Hanley stuff,” Juan said when the tanker was off the air.
“I don’t know,” Max said airily. “Has a nice ring to it. So do you think Singer will abandon with them?”
“Tough to say. Though he’s hit a setback he might try to complete his mission without the crew aboard. They will need to slow in order to launch the lifeboat, but if Cassedine shows him how to get her back to speed then he could finish tightening the storm into an eye less than six miles across.”
“Would you?”
“If I were him and I’d come this far, yeah, I think I would see it through to the end.”
“Which means two things. One is that Singer’s crazier than an outhouse rat and two, you and Eddie better keep an eye out for him when you’re laying the cutting charges.”
